The Morty Collection
by KeeLimeArt
Summary: Infinite versions of Morty- Infinite outcomes of the universe. We all know the story behind Morty C-137, but what about his hundreds- if not thousands of counterparts? Disfigured Morty pieces his life together after a near-death experience. XL-Morty has blood on his hands after an accident with the Morphizer-XE. And what the HELL is going on in Miami?


"I… I'm right, Summer," Morty whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Summer gently pushed the alternate Morty aside. Her eyes locked on the tears welling up in her brother's eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Morty…" she answered. Summer opened her arms wide, welcoming the boy back to reality. Her Morty wasted no time in enveloping her into his small embrace.

Morty C-132's heart melted. This was the first time in a long while that everything felt safe.

Pride made his chest swell, for he was the one bringing this family back together. Seeing this Summer reunited with her Morty… He felt like the sun was peeking over the horizon. Despite being thrown into a random dimension, getting attacked by alternate versions of themselves, and getting shot, they were going to get out of this alright.

Well, Morty C-132 and his Rick would.

Morty 304-x and Summer 304-x, on the other hand, only had seconds to live. If they had only shuffled two feet to the left, then Jerry wouldn't have flattened them. However, as the man rammed down the concrete wall, he also rammed down his two children.

The wall cracked open with an eruption. Bits of wood, rock, and glass sprayed out, leaving nobody safe from the wreckage. Beyond the destructive smoke, the futuristic tank came barreling out, crushing everything in its wake.

Morty C-132 was thrown back from the debris. His head smacked against the coarse ground, knocking him out of his senses. Laying there, he tried to recollect himself. One, two, three seconds passed before he regained control. Dull ringing filled his ears and clouded his mind as he fumbled to his feet. He didn't register the splatter of warm fluid against his body until he came face to face with the bottom of the tank.

Red. That was all he could think of. The tires, the body, the bottom of the tank was painted red with fresh blood.

Morty caught a flicker of dull teal from the corner of his eyes. Smeared and covered in ginger hair, an arm identical to his own reached out from the wheels.

C-132 was found mid-retch by the time his Rick showed up.

Clean-up jobs happened all the time.

Rick J19-Z7, AKA "Doofus Rick" had to remind himself.

Some realities get out of hand. Getting rid of the mess is the right thing to do. Better that than… Leaving them there…

However, as much as he tried to convince himself, he was never prepared for the sights that met him. Ricks dying? That happened everyday; it was nothing new. Morties? They were all too young. They had their whole lives ahead of them- That's why investigating a Morty death scene was the most heart wrenching, even if the Morty was declared "rogue".

Other citadel members scoped out the surroundings, scribbling and recording notes along the way. The tank loomed over them, striking and ominous even though it had been killed long ago. Doof squinted at it as he exited the portal, immediately feeling stripped of his defences.

He approached two Ricks climbing up the machine. "Has- Has the body been recovered?" He asked.

"What do you think we're doing?" One of them grunted. "Step back and let us do our job, alright? Unless you want to join him. You'll get a good look at it long enough."

Him, Doof mentally corrected. Deceased or not, that Morty is still a human being.

However, he did as he was told and stood far back from the tank. The two Ricks were naturally able to get the tank running in no time and put it in reverse. It hedged backwards, certainly not as fast or as powerful as it had been when crashing in. Doof immediately shot his glance down, not wanting to see if any bits got stuck in the creases of the wheels.

The roaring engine sharply cut, and everybody was suspended in silence. They watched with bated breath, rubbernecking to get a glimpse but not daring to get near at the same time. As rubber tore itself away from the soft surface, underneath laid a figure whose body proportions couldn't have matched a Rick or a Morty.

"A Summer," some Rick finally breathed.

Doof's head shot up. Summer? We were told there was a Morty!

A more medical Rick stepped forwards, sinking his knees into the soil to examine her. Doof tread behind him, but nobody was in the mood to stop or belittle him for it.

Dr. Rick peeled her out of the mud, rolling her until she laid face up on his lap. The expression on his face was completely- blank. He studied her with a quizzical eye more than a compassionate one. Yet another heartless Rick in yet another numbing situation.

It didn't take long to deduce that she was dead. The tread marks on her head were proof enough. Dr. Rick laid her down and rubbed his dirtied hands onto his coat before rising.

Dr. Rick peered into the imprint Summer left with a grimace.

"Found him, the poor bastard," he announced. "Urgh, gonna take a little more to dig this slaughter shop out. Ay, anybody got a shovel?" He casually stumbled out of the scene, hands stuffed into his pockets as though he was going on a lovely stroll.

Doof seized the opportunity to come forwards. If anybody here was going to pay respects and give her a proper way out, it was him. The other Ricks were more concerned about the causes behind it and if it was going to become a threat to then. They didn't own this wild-looking Summer, after all.

Doof got down beside her, muttering odd nothings in her ear. At this, the other Ricks glanced at each other, making obscene, mocking gestures behind Doof's back. A few of them chuckled and started to pair off to investigate other things in the room. Doof, despite rumors, wasn't dumb. He knew what others thought of him and what they said. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter…

He placed his hands on knees, preparing to leave when his eyes landed on the imprint.

A twitch. He could have sworn he saw the dirt shift.

The man rubbed his crooked eye, thinking that his peepers were malfunctioning- again. He blinked until they watered and hoisted himself off of the ground.

He leaned over the hole, realizing now that the Morty- wow, if you could even call what was left a 'Morty'- was lodged all the way into the dirt, except for a crooked, broken arm. In fact, upon further observation, his head didn't look anything like a normal Morty's. His skin was an unsaturated pink, cranium looking like it was bashed together with a few baseball bats. Hairless. Still, there was a minimal amount of blood, leaving Doof to believe that this Morty was just- like this.

I wonder what you've had to suffer…

Doof crouched next to the muddy Morty, about to begin the same procedure on him. As his hand came down upon Morty's back, the boy jolted with a stifled sound. Doof's shaky hand hovered, his mouth parted now. Without a second thought, he reached to Morty's good wrist and felt his pulse. Weak. But present!

The man scrambled to his feet, tripping over his lab coat in the process.

"Hey. H-Hey!" He yelled at the others, flailing arms to get their attention. "He's alive! This- This Morty is alive!"

"-Cannot stay in the Citadel. In fact, he should be put on trial for his crimes!"

"Crimes, crimes, crimes! He's a teenage b- boy!"

"Watch your tongue, Z7. You might have found him alive, but you're not in charge here!"

Familiar voices echoed in his shriveled ears- but the sound made his heart cower back. He didn't know who was talking, some deep-rooted memory made him certain of that.

"I… I know… but. I still think he's just a kid. Look at him, hasn't- hasn't he been through enough already?"

"Huh?! Well, if you like him so much, why don't you add him to your 'collection'? Heh heh heh.

"I don't care what happens to him from here, but I still stand firm. He can't stay at the Citadel. Rick C-132's account made certain of that. Take him, if you want him. We can't have Morties like this running around here."

"Yes, sir…"

Clomping footsteps exited the room and died down the hallway. The boy in bed exhaled deeply.

"They're wrong about you," the timid voice returned. "I- I think you just need a good home. Somewhere out of that mud hole you were living in."

Morty gazed out of his one good eye, which also happened to be the one not bandaged up.

His body was in even worse shape than it was before. Although Summer was a human shield and saved him from the brunt of the damage, he was still in critical condition upon arrival.

One look at Rick was enough to send him reeling back. Rick. His grandfather. The reason why his dimension was destroyed. The reason why he was forced to move with his family. The reason why he looked like this.

Doof put his hands up, startled by the boy as much as the boy was startled by him. "Whoa, take it easy, M-Morty. You're safe now."

"You," Morty accused. "You! R- Rick Sanchez!" He tried to raise his arms to strike but was instantaneously robbed of breath. His broken arm screamed in protest from the sling.

Doof leaned back, trying to show that he was no threat. He had a sort of experience with frightened Morties.

"Look- Look at me," he gently asked. "I'm not going to hurt you. I brought you here to get patched up- that arm's not gonna thank you later for that. I'd get you some stuff to make it grow back, but…" To be honest, the Ricks only wanted to use minimal resources on this Morty and restricted using any serums.

"Nevermind. Um, yes, I'm Rick, but not- the Rick that you belong to."

"I don't belong to any Rick," Morty protested. "And it doesn't matter if you're not the one from my dimension. All Ricks are the same, aren't they?" He laced his words with venom, warning this strange Rick to back off.

Doof gave him a sad smile. "I don't know what your Rick did to you. And I'm apologizing for him that you had to go through that," he said. "Your Morty- A Morty should be the most precious thing to you. He's your grandson! Me, there's nothing I wouldn't give to know what would've happened if I had my own Morty."

Disfigured Morty jut out his jaw. "You're trying to soften me up. Break down my walls… I'm not going to let you."

"That's fair. I'm not here to step over any boundaries," Doof clarified. "Everything from here is- is on your accord, okay? I'm not going to force you to do anything. You need your time to heal.

"Just know, I'm reaching out a hand to you, M-Morty. If you want, I can help you out. And, and I know you're going to say no-"

"You're right, I am."

"-Just keep me in mind, will you? I run a sort of. Sort of home for lost Morties. People like you. They come and stay for as long as they need to. They're Morties that just, can't find anywhere else to turn to. We've got all kinds of kids there, Morty! I'm sure you could find a friend in them. There's one who, there was this whole thing with a jar of pickles but they are Morties. Oh! And another, his Rick, I mean, he was infused with a lizard-" Doof broke off, biting his tongue. Looking back, his ramblings were pretty foolish and it was best for him to cut his loses.

Morty stared off into space, acting as though he wasn't paying attention. Finally, his head slumped to the side, and he made lazy but firm eye contact.

"... Where's my family?"

Doof shuffled uncomfortably, turning his attention back to his feet. "We're still on the lookout for Beth and Jerry. They disappeared after the- accident."

"And Summer?..."

"She's. She's gone, Morty. She's The reason why you're still with us."

Morty's eye widened completely, and every feature on his face was wiped blank. The boy was frozen in time. All of his gears suddenly ground to a halt.

The older man pulled his chair closer and gently pulled the boy in for a hug.

Doofus Rick had a spring in his step, but was careful not to jar the precious item in his breast pocket.

"Grandpa Rick! Can you please slow down?" Mini Morty protested. His voice might not have been loud, but it was certainly high pitched enough to cut through to the old man's ears.

With a gasp, Doof stopped in his tracks. He cupped the pocket, and a tiny face popped out, looking little more than a puff of brown hair and yellow shirt. He frowned, looking a little disheveled from the walk.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mini. Here!" He gently scooped the boy out and placed him on his shoulder. "Stay up there for a while. You can't nap but we'll get home soon enough."

Mini Morty rubbed his eyes with a yawn. "Aw, Jeez. I knew I shouldn't have stayed up with you guys last night."

A normal sized Morty snorted. He pushed his darkly tinted shades up the bridge of his nose and turned around to return to Doof and Mini. His white cane rolled on the ground with ease, maneuvering it much better than he had when Doof first gifted it.

"That wasn't my fault!" He protested. "And could you warn me the next time you stop?"

Doof laughed at them, trying to dilute some of the bickering. "Come on, is this what you want your first impression to be? We're here to pick up Morty."

"Is he gonna get a nickname soon?" Mini Morty asked.

"Yeah, if you're just gonna call him Morty, things will get confusing," the other pitched in.

"He will get one if he feels comfy with one. Don't try to force one on him, okay, Mini? Mortimer?"

The two bitterly grumbled into submission and remained relatively quiet for the rest of the journey.

When they entered the hospital, a sort of uneasiness washed over the young boys. They were pretty new, themselves, and this would be one of their first times welcoming a new Morty. Regardless, they were determined to make a good impression. Come what may.

Disfigured Morty had his back turned to them as they entered the lobby. He stared disdainfully at his cast, looking more like he was asleep from the way he slumped in the wheelchair.

Doof carefully walked in front of him as to not catch him off guard from behind. "Morty?" He asked, making the injured boy jump out of his thoughts.

Mini Morty crawled closer to Doof's neck, feeling that the Morty's appearance was a little… unsettling. Mortimer had no opinion on the situation. He couldn't see the other Morty's face.

Disfigured Morty quickly hardened his face after recognizing the man. "I've been waiting," he grumbled.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just had a few friends to pick up that wanted to meet you. And some errands. This is Mini and Mortimer," Doof introduced. He shrugged his shoulder a little to get Mini to melt.

"Hi," Mini squeaked.

Mortimer brought a hand up and slipped his glasses off. Revealing- Nothing underneath. Skin smoothly grew over the place where his eye sockets should be.

"Nice to meet you!" Mortimer greeted, extending a hand for him to shake.

Morty stared at the hand for a moment before looking back at Doof, unamused.

"Oh! Other hand, Mortimer. He's broken that arm," Doof urged.

Mortimer quickly switched hands with a mumbled apology. Morty hesitantly took the hand, gave it a singular shake, and then retreated.

"So, am I being wheeled out of here? Driving to your house or something?" Morty asked, sounding more like a challenge.

Doof, Mortimer, and Mini laughed simultaneously.

"Driving? Where we're going, we don't need driving," Doof informed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the one object of Morty's desires: the portal gun.

Before anybody could speak, Doof pulled the trigger and unleashed a bright green vortex.

"Come on!" Doof beckoned. "It's time you meet the others. All 322 of them!"


End file.
